


Just business

by KnittingOverlady



Series: Hedge Witches! [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Magic-Users, References to Drugs, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:24:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6079197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnittingOverlady/pseuds/KnittingOverlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Quentin and Julia drop out of university to become hedge witches and they meet a few people along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just business

_July 2015_

 

When he walked in, Quentin knew he’d found his next target. Brakebills kids always stood out in this crowd. Desperation clinging to every body, but theirs. Besides, the arrogance with which they spoke was usually enough of a giveaway. He turned around and tapped Julia on her arm.

“Looks like my next target just walked in.” Julia grimaced and took a swallow of her drink. She’d long since given up on her cosmo’s. Now she drank vodka on the rocks, getting drunk as quickly as she could on nights like this. And on most other nights if Quentin wasn't there to distract her. 

“You sure? We don’t want a repeat of Steven again.” She was right. Steven had been a mistake. He was lucky Julia had his back, otherwise he’d have been a smear of macho rage last Saturday. Luckily they’d both gotten a lot better at binding spells after visiting the safe house in Iowa last Christmas. Nothing says holiday cheer like a run-down farmhouse and five people furiously casting heating spells 24/7 in order to keep warm.  

“Yeah, I’m sure. If ames taught me anything it was to recognize a bespoke suit, and no fratboy comes to these parties wearing tailored clothing unless they’re sure magic will save it later.” Julia sighed and gave him a look.

“You don’t have to, you know. There’s plenty of safe houses we haven’t been to yet.”

“I told you this the first time Jools, we’re in this together. We made our choice last year and I don’t want to go back.” Julia held his gaze for a moment before quickly moving in for a hug.

“I know, I just. I don’t want you turn out like me,” she said into his neck.

“What absolutely perfect?” he said. Julia pulled back to punch his arm.

“Don’t be ridiculous Q. We both know this is hardly,” Quentin interrupted her,

“Hardly what? Better? Julia, you saved me from myself. You gave me magic even though you didn't have to include me in your world. What was I going to do? Study finance, burn out at twenty-five and go back to that mental institute on Rhode Island for the rest of my life? Become a street magician when they finally got my meds right?” Julia smiled and said, “You’d be absolutely terrible. You’d vanish the cards and then forget that you can’t use Yusokvs conjuring on vanished objects.”

Quentin smiled back, “And this is why I need you. To save me from doing stupid shit like that.”

“But not from stupid shit like what you’re planning on doing tonight?”

He looked over at the young man that had caught his eye. He was at the edge of the dancefloor, twirling some girl around with too much flair for them to be in any kind of romantic relationship. Either that or they were professional dancers, but those rarely showed up at the Market. The music was too terrible to justify a visit by anybody respectable. 

“If I play my cards right, Jools, think of the good we could do. Maybe he can hook us up with some serious shit. Something better than the parlour tricks that the people here are usually peddling.”

“Quentin, I know you want to do good, but we can’t actually take any more jobs. Mrs. Galieckzi and her disappearing cats are keeping us busy enough.”

“We really should tell her that her cats aren’t actually cats, I feel kinda bad for taking her money every time one of them decides to play hide and seek again.” Mrs. Galieckzi, their downstairs neighbour, came to them a few weeks ago, asking for their help finding one of her cats, Mrs. Fluffleboots. Quentin’d said yes before Julia could drag him back into the apartment and remind him of the no contact with nosy old neighbourly grannies rule. It was one of the easiest jobs they’d ever had, a quick scry and they’d found it. It wasn’t until cat number three, Sergeant poofypants, had disappeared, that they cottoned on that Mrs. Galieckzi’s cats were actually multiple domovoi which had made their home in her apartment. And that they quite liked playing hide and seek. It was a steady paying job though,even though Mrs. Galieckzi often paid in pierogis rather than cash. He and Julia were too addicted to the things to stop helping her out though.  

“I think she knows actually. She’s just likes filling us up with food whenever she can. Either that or she just likes making people laugh at her weird cat names.” They both broke out into laughter. After wiping the tears from his eyes, Quentin flagged the bartender down for another round of vodka and scotch. He turned around and saw that the man had been abandoned by his friend and was sitting down in a dilapidated chair sipping on something pink and sugary. The man turned his head and looked right at him. Knowing an in when he saw one Quentin pasted on his genuine smile and raised his newly acquired scotch in a toast. The man smiled and lifted his pink monstrosity back at him. Quentin turned back to Julia and said,

“Looks like he’s ready to play.” Julia sighed again, “Well, if you must,” she patted him on the head, “go get ehm tiger. I'll keep a look out in case you're in need of saving again.”

Quentin grinned and knocked back his drink before turning around and making his way to the man in the corner. He had to navigate his way past the unicorn squad. They were there every Friday, dressed in their uniform of ripped unicorn printed anything, so hopped up on X they grabbed onto whomever passed and tried to get them to dance with them for however long they could. They were friendly to newcomers, which couldn’t be said for some of the other parties at the Market, but neither one of them thought it wise to mix xtc with alcohol as well as magic. After one of the unicorn gals tried to roofie Julia, chanting spread the love while she was at it, both of them agreed on a no glitter in the apartment or at the Market rule.

He managed to dodge most of their grabby hands, deciding to burn his shirt when he got home, because one of them had landed a solid hand on his shoulder. He arrived at the collection of dilapidated chairs passing for a lounge where he found the man smirking at him. He took a seat across from him and was about to say hello when the man crossed his legs and said,

“And here I was thinking you’d at least get me a new drink.” The man smiled, no smirked at him, it wasn’t a true smile, though he did sound amused.

“Oh and why is that?”

He waved his hand, “Why else would you brave that swamp of glittery madness over there, if not to bring a man dying of thirst another drink like a true knight would.”

Quentin cocked his head, “Is that why you’re here then. To be saved by a dashing knight?”

“Oh, aren’t we all in need of saving. Especially if we’re down here,” The man eyed him up and down, ”Though the real question is whether or not you’re as dashing as you claim.”

Quentin ran a hand through his hair, before pasting on a coy smile, “I’ll leave that up to you.”

“I imagine you will. But before I pass judgement, does my fair knight have a name?”

He could give him his real name, if he was pursuing this man for his own gains. He used to, back when they were just starting out and he still hooked up with people for his own pleasure. Luckily changing your name was as much a sacrosanct ritual of becoming part of the hedge witch community as the idiotic star tattoos that used to litter his arm. Both were easily changed though. Their full names left behind and carrying only one st ar on the nape of their necks, with a number they could adjust as needed. He’d wanted to get rid of them entirely, both the stars and their names but Julia rightly pointed out that they at least had to play by the community’s rules if they wanted to keep their options open and they both were unlikely to stop using their pet names for one another. Thank deities for Connecticut witches and their ink-based magics, otherwise they’d both be walking starry night warning labels by now.     

“Q, call me Q.”

“Such mystery, but I supposed that was to be expected,” he said giving him another once over.

“And what do I call you?” Quentin returning the favour by dragging his eyes down his body and licking his lips.

“You? You can call me Eliot.”

Quentin leaned his ankle against Eliot’s,

“And tell me Eliot, why are you here tonight if you’re not looking to be saved.”

Eliot looked down at his leg and slowly moved his ankle to see if Q would back down. He wouldn’t. He rarely did. Eliot looked back up at him, and sprawled back into his chair while slowly considering the boy in front of him. He pursed his lips and said, “It just so happens that I have something to trade.”

Quentin cocked his head, “Oh, and what might that be?”

“Well, you see, I go to a very prestigious school, and they like nothing more than filling my pockets with all kinds of wonderous knowledge. And I hear that if one is looking for some, hmm, gratification, my pockets would do very well.”

Quentin leaned forward, “And what is it exactly that you’re looking to trade.”

Eliot looked confused, “Do you truly need me to spell it out? I thought your lot was all about the codewords and subterfuge. I was told to say nothing explicit until somebody’s on their knees.”

Quentin snorted, “You should tell your source that they really need to get out more. I’m sure some places maintain some strange kind of code, but in the Market no deal is struck without being very explicit about what is and isn’t included. That way nobody can go back on their word.”

Eliot smiled, “I see somebody got their hands on Johnson and Craigway’s _Trade magicks of Old._ ”

“Yeah, well, the bartender gives away copies to all newcomers who prove their worth,” Quentin waved his hand around, “They’re oddly protective of this place and a bad reputation, well, us witches can’t afford that in our line of work.”

“Ah, yes, I imagine you couldn’t. Well. Let me be very clear. I have in my pocket a book called _Dream and the mystique_ , filled with all kinds of sleepinducing memory fiddling spells, which I’m sure your ilk could use to great effect. I’d be willing to loan this out for a week to whomever is able to help me out with my conundrum.”

“And what is this conundrum of yours,” Quentin said, barely able to keep the excitement out of his voice. He’d been expecting a spell and a quick handjob in a stall, trading messy kisses until the guy was too whacked out to notice Quentin's knees never hit the floor. Keep the wording general and Quentin could get away with using nothing more than his hands to get what he wanted. All the spell practice these past year had left him incredibly deft and he wasn't above using a bit of magic to enhance the expierce in order to ensure he got what he needed. This one was rather attractive though, as far as brakebills students went. 

Eliot smirked at him again, and leaned forward so that his knees were bracketing Quentin’s.

“You see, the problem with going to a very high-prestige private school is that there is a very distinct lack of decent young men. And by decent I mean willing to get on their knees and preform some services for me that I have been deprived of for quite some time now.”

Quentin got up and took his wrist into his hands, pulling Eliot up out of his chair and into his arms. He looped his arm around his waist, looked up through his fringe and said, “Well, I think I might just be able to help. Come with me.”

He pulled him towards the stairs, passing Julia on the way whom he gave a sly thumbs up. He could see her cataloguing Eliot, in case she needed to track him down and dismember him if Quentin came back bruised or broken in anyway he wasn't already. He turned around before they went up the stairs, needing to make sure that the guy knew that he could still back out. Not that Quentin was planning on letting him, but it was good to let them think they had some choices. 

"You sure you don't need to let your lady friend know what you're up to?"

Eliot looked at him, confused, "Who, Janet? I think she's already left with a tasty morsel of her own," he said crowding him up against the railing of the stairs. "Why, worried I might need to be escorted out of here after you're done with me?"

Quentin grabbed his lapels and pulled his body in until he was a hairsbreath away and he could feel the beginnings of his erection against his stomach. He looked up and could see the green in his eyes, and wondered for a second if this is what it would've been like if they'd met under other circumstances. If they would have flirted until one of them dragged the other away to wreck their body, or if they'd merely let their sexual tension swell until they were both so pent up that they would attack each other at a party where both of them had too much vodka and then they would regret it in the morning. Which would be a pity, because Eliot was quite unfairly gorgeous. Nice lips too.   

"Are you going to zone out on me or finally kiss me boy wonder?"

He was also a bit of a dick, but Quentin hardly minded.

After all, there was a book in play now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for more :).


End file.
